


Moonlight

by celestialskiff



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Bajor, Bajoran Culture, Dax's past hosts, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Kissing, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-27
Updated: 2017-11-27
Packaged: 2019-02-07 14:07:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12842778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celestialskiff/pseuds/celestialskiff
Summary: Ezri felt like she was at the edges of things all the time, brushing along the margins of the world. Being in space was being at an edge, and it was also being in the middle of everything. The world she encountered every day had no centre, was made up of jagged edges of things, of hundreds of people trying to fit together.Ezri and Kira go on holiday to Bajor. Set approximately five months after Season 7.





	Moonlight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [brinnanza](https://archiveofourown.org/users/brinnanza/gifts).



> Big thanks to AceofWands for the beta! <3

_You do the same thing every day, and the routine becomes comfortable. The routine hides the sore places, the bones that grind against one another. You drink Tarkalian tea every morning, not because you like it, but because it grounds you. You sit at Sisko's old desk, touching the console he used so often. You are not breaking apart, because you are doing the same thing you did yesterday, and the day before. Nothing is spiralling away, you know where you will sleep each night, and who you will talk to over dinner. The rage is covered, locked safely away. You are whole._

*

“These aren't meant for regular use,” Julian said, leaning against his office door. “Maybe you should see a counsellor.” 

Ezri rolled her eyes. “Very funny. Shut up and give me the drugs.” 

Julian laughed. “Are you trying to make me worry about you?”

“Maybe I should worry about you,” Ezri said. “When was the last time you went on a date?” 

Julian handed her the hypospray. “Seriously, though, is the insomnia getting any better?” 

“When I sleep, I wake up nauseous. Then I can't sleep because of the nausea.” Ezri shrugged. “The holodeck helps sometimes.” 

“You need a holiday.” Julian began flicking through the display on his tricorder. 

“So do you,” Ezri said. He looked tired, too, although she knew he hadn't been as busy. While there were always patients in need of care, the pressure has lessened since the war had ended. 

“I'm writing a paper on the application of holographic cells in the human blood stream. It's very relaxing.” 

Ezri patted his arm. “Yeah, thinking about the moral implications alone sounds very soothing. We should meet for dinner later in the week and discuss something entirely different.” 

Julian put his hand to his heart. “Jadzia was so much nicer to me. You're my least favourite Dax.” 

Ezri stuck out her tongue. “Jadzia's the one who thinks up new ways to tease you.” 

It was nice to laugh. She slipped out onto the Promenade, still laughing, trying to remember what she was supposed to do today. The hypospray helped, as usual: her thoughts became clearer, though her head still throbbed with lack of sleep. Jadzia would down a raktajino and get on with things, but Ezri decided on some quiet meditation in her office and some tea, before seeing her first patient. 

I really am getting very mature, Ezri though. Very emotionally stable. And then she laughed again, by herself in the turbolift, because neither of those things were remotely true. _Are you getting hysterical?_ Curzon asked inside her head. _Maybe you should punch something._

_You need to eat more green vegetables_ , Audrid said softly. _And maybe take up running._

Ezri told them all to kindly shut up. 

*

She met Nerys for a walk in the holosuite at the end of her shift. Ezri missed Nerys when they weren't together, though she saw her every day. She looked forward to their shared coffee or the quiet dinners at the bar. She even dreamt about Nerys, though she wasn't always sure if they were her dreams or Jadzia's.

Nerys always disparaged the falsity of the holosuite, pointing out the ways it couldn't mimic a real landscape, but Ezri was so used to her complaints, she barely heard them. She set the climate controls so the air was cool, with the faintest mist, and evening light streamed through the trees. Jadzia had always enjoyed martial arts in the holosuites, or spas staffed by attractive people, but Ezri found a brisk walk on a simulation of a planet much more relaxing. 

She and Nerys walked in comfortable silence, the leaves rustling overhead. “What planet is this supposed to be?” Nerys said at last. 

“It's a park in New Sydney,” Ezri explained. “In the mountains. New Sydney is pretty industrial: I always came out here to escape.” 

“Do you miss it? New Sydney?” 

Ezri shrugged. “I'd rather go to Bajor. It's more beautiful, and so much closer. Or Earth. I had a good time at Starfleet Academy: sometimes I miss San Francisco.” 

“We never seem to leave this station, do we? You must have plenty of leave saved up. Should I make you take it, as your superior officer? Do you need a vacation?” 

“What about you? Do I, as your counsellor, need to make you take some time away?” 

Nerys looked up between the tree branches, at the fake sky above. Ezri looked too: it seemed to go on and on, clouds opening to reveal blue and more blue. Ezri squinted her eyes. “I won't tell if you won't,” Ezri said at last. 

“We should want to leave. Even if this hunk of metal is home, people still like to leave their homes from time to time.” Nerys started walking again between the pine and birch trees. 

“It's been a hard year. It's only been six months since Ben and Odo left. We're just looking for stability,” Ezri said. She didn't say: _I don't want to go anywhere without you._

“Stability,” Nerys repeated. “I think I felt more stable during the war. Sometimes I just want to play baseball against Vulcans again.” 

“I'm sure we could arrange that,” Ezri said, but she was shaking her head as she said it. There wouldn't be any point; it wouldn't be the same. 

An alarm beeped somewhere in the holosuite, reminding them they had only a few minutes before their allotted time ran out. They didn't need much warning in a programme like this, but many people needed to put their clothes back on and sponge off before re-entering Quark's bar. Ezri looked over at Nerys: she was smiling slightly as she walked through the pines, her eyes crinkling. The was a scent of resin in the air. 

Ezri wanted to take her hand, ask her what she was thinking, but she couldn't. There was a stiffness between them now, despite all the time they spent together, a line they couldn't cross. Ezri didn't know how to change it. 

*

Audrid, in the hospital room, waiting to hear the results of her daughter's tests. Watching the carrion birds outside, crossing and crossing the window. 

Torias, looking at the scattered remains of his plane around him, wondering if he could move. The sun in his eyes. 

Ezri, waking up on Deep Space Nine, trying to catch her breath. Vomiting onto the floor, and lying at the very edge of her bed, her hands limp, unable to get up or fall asleep. 

Curzon, walking onto a Klingon ship for the first time. The smell of sweat and leather. The sounds of the ship: footsteps, metal on metal, the echo of the engine. 

The universe spinning away from all the versions of Dax: an eye-blink, a dust-storm, a lighthouse, gone. Then Ezri left alone in her room, looking for her body, trying to find the places where her limbs ended. 

*

Kasidy lay on her side, her stomach resting on a cushion. Ezri had offered to rub her feet, and been rejected, and now felt slightly snubbed. 

“I don't want to talk about babies,” Kasidy said. “It's already all I think about.” She sighed. “Heavy with child, people used to say. That's how it feels. Heavy, aching with child. And at the same time, I feel this anticipation, like I'm about to sit an exam and I'm going to fail.” 

“You can't fail,” Ezri said gently. She was sitting on the floor by the couch, because being on the ground eased her nausea. “There's no wrong way...” 

Kasidy shook her head. “Don't be comforting. Tell me about your love life.” 

“My love life?” Ezri rubbed her fingers through her hair. “I don't have one.” 

“Yes, you do. You're Dax. Dax always has a love life. I listened to Ben enough to know that.” 

“Not this Dax.” Ezri nibbled her lip. She was feeling particularly nauseous today, and always at the edge of panic. She wanted to talk to Kasidy, but she didn't know how to put it into words. She wished she were Jadzia: she thought Jadzia would have done a better job at being Kasidy's friend, at making her laugh, at preparing for the baby, at giving her space to vent her feelings. Ezri had too much trouble navigating the world. 

When she thought about love, she thought about Nerys. 

“There's nothing happening, honestly,” Ezri said. “I've rebuffed Quark and Julian so often that I think they've finally got the message. I'm a mess, anyway.” 

Kasidy laughed. “You're a mess? You're adorable, don't kid yourself.”

“I'm a mess, too.” 

“We're all a mess,” Kasidy said. “After everything that's happened. We're all struggling. You should know that.” 

Ezri stood up, feeling the room spin a little before it righted itself. She knew that, but it was hard to apply it to herself. She could just see all the ways in which she fell short. “I know. Do you think Jake is doing any better?” she asked, because she knew they were both worried about him. She went to the replicator to get them more tea. 

*

She felt like she was at the edges of things all the time, brushing along the margins of the world. Being in space was being at an edge, and it was also being in the middle of everything. The world she encountered every day had no centre, was made up of jagged edges of things, of hundreds of people trying to fit together. 

When she went to meet Nerys for dinner, Nerys had thrown her PADD across the room, and it had shattered. She was shaking. 

“I need to break something else,” she said to Ezri, a desperate, pleading look in her eyes. 

They were in the commander's office: it was all smooth surfaces and expensive equipment. Ezri handed Nerys her tricorder, wordlessly. Nerys picked it up, felt its weight, and threw it at the wall. It landed on the ground with a soft thunk. 

Nerys groaned: a sound of frustration, rather than pain. 

“Let's go to the docking ring,” Ezri said. She suddenly felt confident, as though she had been expecting this moment, and had been planning for it. 

She took Nerys arm, leading her firmly from the room. Several crew members were looking up at the office, but they were sensible enough not to say anything as Ezri and Nerys walked by. Ezri called Nog to ask him what storage room was empty, or mostly empty. His voice came through her comm badge, letting her know at once, without asking any questions. Nog was good like that. 

Nerys stood next to her, her arms wrapped around herself. She was shaking very slightly. Ezri's training told her to talk to Nerys, to give her space to say what was wrong. Dax told Ezri to wait, and Ezri was inclined to agree with Dax right now. 

Ezri sealed the doors of the storage room: in front of them, empty crates, half a shipment of shuttle parts that had been abandoned, some chairs waiting to be recycled in the replicator, jars of out-of-date jumja. “Nothing here matters,” she said. 

Nerys stared at Ezri: she looked uncertain, and slightly wild. “I'm sorry,” she said. “This is crazy. What do you want me to do?” 

Ezri picked up one of the jumja jars and threw it at the wall. It smashed with a satisfying sound, and sticky pieces of jumja bounced on the floor. _This will be a pain to clean_ , Ezri thought, and threw another jar. 

For a moment, Ezri heard nothing but the echo of the crash in the quiet room. Then Nerys smashed a chair against the floor. 

*

Ezri started crying at some point after she had broken all the glass, but before Nerys was done with the chairs. Ezri felt small and stupid: _What am I doing? What kind of person am I anyway? And how did I get jumja in my eyebrows?_ She knelt on the floor, by the packing crate, the ground spinning under her. 

She didn't know how to fix anything. She felt exhausted: she was thinking about running away. Tobin had been good at that, he was good at making himself small, at vanishing into the crew of a different ship, or into a problem, or into an idea. He was good at forgetting. 

Ezri rubbed her eyes. She needed to help Nerys. Tobin wouldn't have been any good at that. 

“Well,” Nerys said. She kicked the chair, and stood looking at it, as though at a job well done. 

Ezri felt another sob coming, and swallowed it. “I didn't want to take you to the holodeck,” she said. “I thought you'd want it to be real.” 

“You were right.” Nerys sounded calm now, oddly efficient. Then she looked over at Ezri, and her face changed. She came over and knelt by her, putting her hand against Ezri's cheek. Her fingers were warm, the pressure light. “What's wrong?” 

Ezri shook her head. “What happened today?” 

Nerys smoothed Ezri's hair back from her forehead. “Nothing,” she said. “Honestly, nothing. I just...” She rubbed her wrist over her mouth. “Something broke.” 

Ezri was familiar with that: the routine of days that didn't quite cover the sleepless nights, the nausea coiling in her stomach. She stood up carefully, and Nerys stood up with her, putting out a hand to steady her. Ezri wanted to fall into Nerys's arms, but she didn't. If she wanted comfort, she could go to Julian, to Quark, but she wasn't looking for that kind of safety. She had to be careful with Nerys. 

“Something broke,” Ezri repeated. “I know.” 

“We really should go on holiday. No kidding around,” Nerys said. “You come with me, where I can keep an eye on you.” 

Ezri nodded. “Take me to Bajor,” she said. 

*

Kasidy and Jake both told her they'd be fine; not to feel guilty, and Ezri promised she'd be back in time for the birth. It felt strange to leave them, though she wasn't sure if it was because she was worried about them, or if she was worried about herself without them. It was easy to tie up other loose ends; Nerys found it much harder to relinquish the station, even for a few days. 

Then they were in the shuttle together, among Bajoran traders and Federation tourists, and Ezri was too busy not throwing up to talk. She shrugged helplessly at Nerys, and Nerys held her hand, squeezing rhythmically. 

They arrived just as the dew was falling. The cabin had no glass in its windows, no doors in its frames: there was nothing to lock. Moths flew in and the rooms were full of the scent of pollen. The back doorway opened out onto a green pond. Ezri felt wind and dew on her skin. She felt light all over, free from pain and nausea, but exhausted. 

She and Nerys sat on the porch, sharing flat bread, curd cheese and tiny sharp vegetables a little like radishes. Ezri ate slowly but ravenously. She could hear frogs moving in the pond, the faint splash and suck. 

“Do you ever lock anything on Bajor?” Ezri asked. 

“Of course we do.” Nerys threw a vegetable stem into the shrubs. “This is a house in the Doonan tradition: it's not a permanent home. There is nothing of value here; it's a place of refuge.” 

“Someone could attack us,” Ezri said. Her voice sounded brittle to her ears. 

“Yes, they could. But I have a phaser and so do you.” 

Ezri chuckled. “I thought you'd say no one would hurt us, here.” 

“That would be a lie,” Nerys said gently. Ezri heard the unspoken thought: People will hurt you anywhere. 

Small flies circled the pond. There were no sounds but the natural noises of the night: bird calls, insects, wind. Ezri kept straining to hear engines. She said, “I'd like to believe that nothing bad ever happened here.” 

Nerys snorted. “It's Bajor. Something bad has happened everywhere.” 

“I know.” Ezri rubbed her fingers over her lips. She could feel Nerys's warmth beside her. The night was growing cool, but Ezri liked it, it had been so long since she'd felt temperatures change. “I never forget on Deep Space Nine. But here, I think I could. It's so beautiful.” 

“It is, isn't it?” 

Ezri leant a little closer to Nerys's warmth. Nerys laid her hand softly on Ezri's knee. 

“What are we going to do tomorrow?” Ezri asked. She wanted to cover Nerys's hand with her own, and didn't dare. 

“I don't want to have any plans,” Nerys said. “I want to see what happens.” 

* 

It rained during the night, and they woke to the glade dripping with green. Ezri had imagined sunbathing, but it was too cold for that. Instead they strolled through the forest, under the mild Bajoran sun, listening to the sound of running streams. Every so often they came across a waterfall that seemed too beautiful to be real. 

They didn't talk much, carefully avoiding the subject of Deep Space Nine, or of each other. They murmured appreciation for the landscape from time to time. Ezri felt herself brush against Nerys as they walked, felt Nerys's eyes on her. She found her own gaze lingering on Nerys's skin, the green shirt she wore such a contrast from her uniform, softer and looser; and on the hollow of Nerys's throat, the shape of her ears. 

Each moment felt full of potential, and that was both wonderful and frightening. 

Ezri napped in the afternoon, for the first time in years: it had been so long since she had been really sleepy, and it was blissful. The cabin was small, the bed she rolled out was narrow but soft, and Ezri watched the green light of the pond shimmering on the ceiling. She drifted off easily. 

When she woke, Nerys was sitting on the porch, sipping Tarkalian tea, and looking across over the glade. It was late afternoon: butterflies flew, birds sang. “Something stung me,” Nerys said, showing Ezri a swollen place on her wrist. “But I don't mind. It's so calm here.” 

If Ezri had been stung, she would have soothed it with an appropriate hypospray at once, but she didn't offer this solution to Nerys, knowing Nerys would deal with it in her own time. She sat next to her, and took the cup of tea from Nerys. She touched the rim that Nerys's lips had touched with her own lips, and sipped the cooling tea. It was bitter and familiar. 

“This place suits you,” Ezri said softly. “It's so alive here. You come to life.” 

“I belong to this place: it's in my spine, my feet.” Nerys gently took back the tea-cup. “But it suits you, too.” 

“Do you think we'll ever be OK again?” Ezri asked, breaking their unspoken pact not to talk about Deep Space Nine. 

“No,” Nerys said. “You never are. You never are the same again. You should know that.” 

Ezri shrugged. Yes, she knew about change. Dax understood metamorphosis. Maybe Ezri didn't. “Sometimes I just feel very young and very stupid.” 

“Well.” Nerys put down the tea-cup and took Ezri's hand instead. She laced their fingers together. “You are. We all are. But especially Starfleet.” 

Ezri squeezed Nerys's fingers, not quite daring to breathe. “I thought you'd got used to us.” 

“I have. But you can't stop being what you are: optimists. You come from places of safety.” 

Life had never felt very safe to Ezri. But she didn't say that. She looked into Nerys's eyes. “I feel very young and very stupid around you,” she said. “But it's also where I feel most whole.” 

She'd hugged Nerys before, but not like this. This time she was shaking when she put her arms around her, and her whole body collapsed into Nerys's embrace. She pressed her face to Nerys's neck, not wanting to look up, to move. She felt Nerys's heartbeat in her throat. Nerys's arms closed around Ezri, warm and solid. She smelt Nerys's skin, her sweat and the sweet perfume of the Bajoran flowers. 

She never wanted to look up, she want to cling and breathe in Nerys forever – and then she tilted her head towards Nerys's face, and Nerys kissed her. She kissed her lips softly, without demand or pressure, and Ezri responded desperately, nibbling, licking. She clung to Nerys's narrow shoulders. 

Nerys buried her fingers in Ezri's hair, soothing her, guiding her mouth with her own so Ezri's kisses grew less sloppy but no less passionate. Ezri realised there were tears on her face. _I'm a mess, I'm a mess_ , she thought. No other Dax stepped in to help. She was alone with Nerys, entirely herself, whoever that was, left alone to understand this moment. 

But Nerys was there, her hands on Ezri's shoulder, firm, her forehead resting against Ezri's own. Nerys traced the line of Ezri's jaw with one finger. “Damn, you're beautiful,” she said. 

Ezri breathed out with a little shaky sound, almost like a laugh. “Nerys,” she replied. Then she had no other words, so she just said Nerys's name again, and Nerys understood. She held Ezri and kissed her, and they sat together in the quiet afternoon, as the shadows lengthened and the stinging insects flew. 

* 

In the evening, they planned to walk to a nearby monastery and pay to share a simple meal there. Nerys said it was beautiful, the food fresh and unusual. But they didn't go anywhere, they simply sat in the cool night until they got too hungry to wait. Nerys fried eggs and made another salad: Ezri watched. Audrid told her to help, reminded her she knew how to cook now, but Lela was content to watch, too. 

They ate slowly, and touched hands, unable to stop looking at each other. Eventually Nerys laughed and said, “It'll be different when we get back to Deep Space Nine, you know.” 

Anxiety was already uncoiling in Ezri's belly, but she shook her head. “No, not yet. We haven't even slept together yet, we can't start worrying.” 

Nerys smiled and brushed her fingers through Ezri's hair and fed her a slice of fruit. The juice ran over Ezri's lips and down her chin. 

When the moons were at their zenith, they turned off the lights and unrolled the beds, pushing them together. Shadows stretched around their feet, and the silver was so bright Ezri could make out the shape of Nerys's eyes, the movement of her hair. 

“I used to get a lot of work done, in moonlight,” Nerys said. 

Ezri thought of Torias, sneaking out of his bed and onto the streets, running to the river, to the boats he'd steal from the dock. She imagined Nerys, thin, young, grubby, running too, under moonlight, carrying phasers, her eyes full of anger and wildness. She would have been afraid of Nerys, once. 

Now, she touched Nerys's cheek, the bridge of her nose. It was easier, now, to kiss her, though Ezri's pulse raced. Nerys pulled her down beside her on the mattress. Ezri slid her hand under Nerys's shirt, touching bare skin, the warmth and movement of naked flesh. Her hand rose, feeling the expanse of it, the terrible intimacy of skin. 

She pressed her nose to Nerys's neck. “I'm scared,” Nerys said, her hand on the small of Ezri's back. 

“Of what?” Ezri asked. 

“Feeling so much,” Nerys said. 

“Me too.” Ezri began to slide her hand away, but Nerys caught her wrist. They began touching slowly, slowly, until they couldn't be slow any longer. 

* 

On the last day, Ezri was almost used to waking up next to Nerys. She learnt that Nerys snored softly when she was deeply asleep, and that she didn't roll around much. She'd learnt the shape of Nerys's back under the blankets, the warmth of her naked skin. 

Ezri made them tea and brought it back to bed before Nerys woke. The birds were singing outside, though a light rain fell. 

Nerys yawned. She took the cup, brushing Ezri's cheek, and sipped it without speaking. Ezri sat cross-legged beside her, looking out at the rain falling onto the pond. 

“I know things won't be any easier, when we get back,” Ezri said. 

“I think things might be a little easier.” Nerys smiled over at Ezri. 

“It doesn't take long to get Bajor,” Ezri said. “We should come more often.” 

“Perhaps we should get a little cabin.” Nerys took Ezri's hand. 

Ezri's lips parted in surprise. A cabin implied that Nerys had been as happy as Ezri; that she really didn't want this to end. She'd said as much to Ezri before, but Ezri hadn't been able to believe her. 

_Be cool_ , Jadzia said. 

Ezri ignored her. “We should. I'd like that.” 

*

_You do the same thing every day, but the edges are ragged. You wake up with Ezri's nose in your armpit, and you smile and ruffle her hair. You cry in the shower some mornings, and not others. You fall asleep at the bar, having only consumed half an ale. Some nights you race Jake around the track in the holodeck. Some nights you scream into pillows and it scares Ezri. Some nights you laugh with her and massage her feet. The routine is this: sometimes things are OK, and sometimes they aren't. You still drink Tarkalian tea every morning._


End file.
